


The Teenage Edition: On Tour

by sbrn10



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbrn10/pseuds/sbrn10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: "Crackfic: what might happen if the people in OUAT were a teenage pop group touring on a bus"</p><p>Or: "What happens when I try to justify my inner Regina fangirl spewing out an incoherent stream of consciousness by telling myself that 18-year-old Emma Swan has a crush"</p><p>Seriously. Complete, utter crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, sexonastick lets me pester her and doesn't complain (much), so. Thanks?

1.

The bus hits a pothole at the exact moment Regina leaps to her feet, crowing in victory, and Emma is jolted awake. "Shut up!" she yells hoarsely, to which Regina calls back, "Whatever, Swan!" the sound seeping through the pillow Emma crushes against her face. Sometimes Emma really hates Regina.

*

She also hates Ruby, she thinks later, because Ruby must be some kind of pervert, like a masowhatsit or whatever it is that Regina sometimes calls Emma—which, by the way, Emma is _not_ —the way she keeps playing video games with Regina when she _always loses_. Regina cares way too much about winning at every last thing on the fucking planet, so of course it all ends with Regina yelling stupid shit at the TV ("Boom!"), and Emma's head is ringing now and _Ruby_ is the worst. The absolute worst.

*

On the other hand, she _loves_ Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret is a saint. Mary Margaret is the only one who bothers to notice that Emma is _sick_ , _hello_ , tiptoeing up to Emma's bunk to check her fever and smile reassuringly. "You look better," she says, and Emma believes her, even if she doesn't feel it. "Drink this and get some more sleep, okay?" Mary Margaret presses a bottle of water into Emma's hand and draws the curtains behind her when she leaves.

*

Emma's back hurts from lying down all day, and when she stumbles into the dining compartment Regina looks up from her fat-free yogurt and remarks, "You look like shit."

"No shit, Sherlock," Emma mumbles and collapses next to her anyway. The little booth with its bolted-in table isn't quite big enough for two people to sit together on the same side without touching at all, which is totally why Emma ends up kind of leaning against Regina.

"You give me whatever disgusting disease it is that you have, and I will kill you," Regina says but doesn't pull away, turning to look at Emma appraisingly instead. Her eyes are steady, if narrowed slightly, and eventually Emma starts squirming. Regina finally nods, then, as if she's giving out gold stars, as if Emma ever asked for one. "I trust you'll live."

Regina reaches up towards the shelf, picks up an apple, then seemingly changes her mind and takes a banana instead. Regina is kind of a freak in everything she does, and this is no exception, the way she peels it so neatly, four perfect slips of yellow like a cartoon, before handing it to Emma. "Eat."

Emma does.

 

 

2.

They're in some random city in the middle of nowhere, and it's been three months since they started living out of a bus. Emma thinks it's fucking understandable if they're a little restless, you know? And come on, even if people cared about underage celebrities drinking (which they don't), like what kind of actual paparazzi is there in like, _Rapid City_?

Mulan does not share Emma and Ruby's opinion.

The drunk dude who's trying to grope Emma's boobs probably thinks Mulan looks way too small to actually be someone's bodyguard, but man, is he wrong. Mulan flips him on his ass in, like, .5 seconds flat, and Emma's not sure if it's her booze buzz or what, but Mulan's kinda hot when she does that.

Even if Ruby says, "Jesus, Princess, you're gonna break someone's neck," in that way where if _Ruby_ thinks you're going way overboard, you probably are.

Mulan just glares at both of them and gestures to the car.

"Why can't you just let us _know_ beforehand? For christ's sake, guys." The tired edge in Mulan's voice clangs against the sound of the ignition. Ruby rolls her eyes and sinks deeper into her seat, shoulders hunched and arms crossed like she wants to just fold into herself.

"We were fine," Emma protests, but Mulan's only answer is to scowl at her through the rear view mirror.

*

When Emma opens the door to her hotel room, Regina is lying in bed reading, and Emma stops dead, looking at her keycard in confusion. Wrong room? Wait, how would that even –

"Mary Margaret and I are splitting baby-sitting duties," Regina says, not even looking up at Emma as she turns a page.

Emma immediately scowls—Regina and Mary Margaret can shove their we-are-so-much-better-than-you schticks up their _asses_ —but then promptly trips over her own feet as she shuffles into the room and tries to take off her jacket at the same time. She avoids outright falling on her face by grabbing onto the coat rack, but fuck, maybe she shouldn't have bothered—she might have gotten lucky and died from a broken neck or something.

Of course, Regina can't be bothered to say _hi_ like a normal person but will deign to look up to witness everything Emma is horrible at. Which includes, like, existing on this planet, apparently.

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much," Emma mumbles defensively as she plops down into an armchair and takes off her shoes. She is very focused on that, which is the only reason she doesn't look at Regina. Totally the only reason.

Regina says nothing for a pretty long time, so maybe she's reading again. Emma tosses her shoes to the side and then cautiously peers up without raising her head, only to find Regina still _looking_ at her, and like an idiot, Emma blushes furiously and looks back down.

"You really are spectacularly dumb sometimes, Swan."

Mary Margaret is probably being a lot nicer to Ruby, Emma thinks morosely.

"Are you going to vomit all over our bus tomorrow?"

" _Not that much_ ," and Emma can't help if there's something like a pout tugging at the slant of her mouth when she looks up at Regina again, determined not to back down this time, because she's not _five_ , you know, she doesn't need to be _lectured_ about taking care of herself while they're on tour or –

Regina smirks a little and snaps her book shut, cutting off Emma's rambling trail of thought. "Drink some water before you go to sleep. At least three glasses." Then Regina is swinging her legs off the side of the bed and that's distracting too—Regina wears these ridiculous night slips that barely cover anything and her _thighs_ are like –

"Wait, you're leaving?" Emma remembers to ask when Regina is halfway across the room.

"What, you want me to stay?"

"...that's it?"

"If you want a heartfelt talk, maybe you should try Ruby's room. You don't look like you're going to drop dead of alcohol poisoning, so I consider my duty here discharged." Emma blinks. Regina talks so fucking weird sometimes. She shrugs on a robe that's only slightly more decent than her night slip and pauses in front of the door. "Good night, Swan."

Regina's robe does this little swirly thing when she turns to leave that is like, straight out of an old movie or something, and really, Regina really has no fucking right to even _exist_ the way she does—when all the booze is starting to catch up to Emma and her eyes feel like they're going to fall out of her skull and her throat is all scratchy and dry—but goddamn. Emma groans and drops her head into her hands.

 

 

3.

"All I'm saying is this is the third time he's backed out of a promise, and it's pretty shitty, you know?" Emma says in a furious whisper, although if you asked her, she's actually consciously trying to keep at least like 95% of her actual scorn out of her voice.

"Things come up; you know that, Emma," Mary Margaret whispers back. Emma harrumphs and just frowns.

They're whispering because Regina may be lying in her bunk with the curtains closed, but it's still only _curtains_ and there is no privacy on this bus, and if Regina knew they're talking about Graham, she'd probably actually be more pissed at them than her fucking useless "boyfriend" who can't bother to actually show up when he said he would.

"I've had to cancel on David before," and great, Mary Margaret has to bring up the other guy who doesn't deserve one of Emma's best friends, "—it's part of the business. I'm sure Graham is going to make it up to her."

Yeah, Graham is going to make up for putting Regina into such a bad mood she won't talk to any of them since last night. Sure. When Emma makes another dismissive grunt, Mary Margaret pokes Emma's stomach, hissing at her to be quiet. They're watching The Notebook—again, because it's Mary Margaret's turn to choose movies. She probably knows the entire thing by heart, so Emma doesn't know what her problem is.

Ruby lumbers into the lounge, munching on Cheetos Puffs loudly, and falls right on top of Emma, curling into her easily even as she says, "You need to expand beyond Ryan Gosling, man." Mary Margaret, the picture of maturity, responds by sticking out her tongue. "Am I right, Em, or am I right?"

Emma was mostly thinking that she doesn't know how the fuck Ruby manages to stay this bony—her shoulder is jutting _hard_ into Emma's ribs—while eating like a college frat boy, but mutters, "Everyone in this group needs to expand beyond current interests," which makes Mary Margaret give her a Shocked Look. "What, I didn't mean Dav—" but that sounds like she totally did mean David and Emma stops herself, even though she doesn't know what to say next after that.

Ruby just laughs.

*

Regina's grouchiness lasts all the way through San Jose until Los Angeles, although the fans probably can't tell. Regina sublimates anger into ferocity on the stage, so fuck it, San Jose and LA were probably two of their better shows. Emma thinks LA is actually their best show so far—Ruby hits all her notes, Mary Margaret doesn't flub any of the dance moves, and Regina... well, _fuck_ , you know? Regina knows it too, so that by the end, she's mellowed out enough that Emma feels comfortable wrapping her up in a hug, grinning even though they both reek of sweat as they make their way backstage, squeezing through make-shift walkways and the staff still milling around.

But five minutes later, Graham sweeps into their dressing room without any warning. He has flowers and that gross really-dark chocolate that Regina likes to pretend is healthy, and as always his smarminess works on Regina for some stupid reason. Is it the accent? Like, it's not like there could be any other reason, right? Graham's not even that hot. Liking someone for having an accent is dumb, Emma thinks as she stabs at her own eyes with a cotton swab, mascara smudging everywhere.

When she looks up, Killian is smirking at her through the mirror.

"What?"

"Just admiring the view, my dear," he says, in a way that somehow manages to be creepy even though Emma is completely, fully clothed. It could be an Irish thing, Emma thinks. See, another reason why liking the accent is dumb.

But then Regina is—well, not _crying_ , but a little bit sniffly with eyes gleaming suspiciously, and then Graham picks her up and twirls her—swear to god, _twirls_ her in the middle of the fucking dressing room—and Emma and Killian are both wearing the same ill-disguised look of nausea that makes Emma feel a weird sort of kinship with the creepy dude who wears more eyeliner than she does. The enemy of my enemy, or something like that, isn't it?

"Graham always did like his grand gestures." Killian grimaces, but then shrugs and turns back to Emma. "Am I invited to the after party? Since my brother looks like he's abandoning me."

Emma doesn't even know why Killian came in the first place, but she just shrugs. "Whatever, if you want to come." It's LA, so the after party will probably be big enough for Emma to avoid Killian. And Graham. And Regina. And any making out in the corner or whatever. Come to think of it, Emma wouldn't mind not seeing anyone tonight, really. But Regina looks... happy, at least, so she'll want everyone at the party, of course.

Emma crumples up her dirty cotton swab and throws it in the trash with a world-weary sigh. She should know better than to be waiting on Regina, of all people. She should, but she doesn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi? Uh. This was not supposed to be an ongoing thing? But apparently this fic is now my happy place where I can escape from the actual show, and some of you actually apparently like this, so! Here, have some more ridiculous popfic! Scenes are not in chronological order, but are in the general timeframe of them being on tour when Emma is 18. Scenes with italicized numbers are various flashbacks.
> 
> I make no promises as to future updates to this collection of drabbles. But let's hope. And major thanks to everyone who left feedback on the first part. :)
> 
> Note: Gacked Gold's first name from maleficently's awesome "somewhere, someone must know the ending."

4.

"Give me the remote, Ruby."

"No."

"We're not watching another reality tv show."

"Yeah, and we're not watching reruns of Dawson's Creek, for god's sake."

"I didn't say I wanted to _watch_ it, I was just _observing_ —"

"And I am observing—ahahaha, holy shit."

"Oh my god, Ruby—"

"Hey, Emma, they're showing Snow White on the Disney channel!"

"What, the new one?"

"Of course, get your ass in here."

"Oh my god, stop it, you two—"

"Ahaha, man, this never gets old."

"Don't run in the bus, Emm—ow, get off me."

"Why? You're my favorite cushion."

"She's your only cushion, Em."

"Get _off_ me."

"But you're so cute and cuddly! And look, your little face! With your lips as red as blood!"

"And hair black as ebony!"

"...it was ten years ago, oh my god, grow up."

"Would you all _shut up?_ I am trying to get some sleep."

"Stop trying to ruin all our fun, Regina."

"This isn't fun."

"Well, maybe not for you, Snow."

"Jesus Christ."

 

 

_5._

Regina is three years older than Emma, which isn't a whole lot, unless you're Emma and you're fifteen, in which case it feels like a _lot_.

Sometimes, Emma thinks Regina is wonderful: older, wiser, really hot, way cooler than Emma and smarter, too—really smart with the kind of sharp, dry humor that Emma can never pull off because she's too much of a derp.

Sometimes, though, Regina is horrible—nothing is good enough, and humor isn't the only thing about her that can slice you open.

"Emma," Mary Margaret calls, but Emma doesn't turn around, trotting on wobbly heels as fast as she thinks she can manage without falling on her face. Which is the whole point, isn't it, that Emma's never going to be able to dance in these things without falling on her face.

Ruby is the one that follows her out, plopping down on the cold stairs next to her. "You know she doesn't mean it," she says after a while.

Emma just sniffles and swipes at her wet face with the back of her wrist.

Ruby waits, and then eventually adds, "Snow's ripping her a new one, if it makes you feel any better."

It doesn't, really, but Emma lets out a short bark of laughter anyway, and Ruby smiles, reaching to wipe her thumb along Emma's cheek.

"I don't... I don't want to let you guys down," Emma says, thin and strained.

"You're not. Regina's just being Regina. You know that."

Emma looks down and scuffs her shoes against the metal grooves of the stair edge. Her stupid shoes with their stupid stiletto heels.

"C'mon, let's get some Gatorade from the vending machine. Give Snow more time to cuss Regina out." Ruby's hand is warm and sticky in Emma's as she tugs Emma to her feet, and Emma squeezes it so tight, but Ruby doesn't pull away.

*

That night, Emma shuffles and hesitates instead of fidgeting impatiently for Regina to unlock the passenger side, and Regina rolls her eyes.

"Get in the car, Swan."

It's not an apology, but Regina can't quite meet Emma's eyes, lets Emma pick the radio station, and doesn't tell her to stop slouching even once during the drive home, so Emma figures it kind of counts. And really, Regina lets Emma's CDs take up half her glove compartment, hell, lets Emma take up half her _apartment_ —didn't even mention Emma's foster family when she suggested that Emma move in—drives them both to rehearsals and back, and doesn't act superior about any of it (at least, not any more than she acts superior towards everyone else just for existing), and really, Emma thinks, whatever else Regina is or isn't, she's Regina, and that's probably enough.

 

 

_6._

Mr. Gold's office is huge and imposing, all hunter green carpet, mahogany door frames, and a set of black leather furniture looming around the black marble topped coffee table. Emma's only ever seen places like this in the movies and feels ridiculously out of place as she tries not to fidget. But everyone is _looking_ at her, and she can't help it if her leg just _twitches_.

"Well, she seems lovely, Elias," Mrs. Mills says, smiling sweetly. Too sweetly. Emma's leg jerks again. "Wherever did you find such a gem?"

Mr. Gold's teeth gleam yellow when he smiles. "Oh, I'm always on the lookout, you know. Always thinking of your girls," he says, looking from the other girl—Regina, she said—to Emma and then back to Mrs. Mills.

"Regina, why don't you take Miss Swan downstairs and buy her a snack?" Mrs. Mills phrases it as a question, but it doesn't sound like one at all. "You girls can get to know each other."

"Of course, Mother." Regina nods with a tight-lipped smile, and somehow manages to look fluid and graceful as she rises to her feet even though her voice sounds plastic. Emma stands awkwardly, trying not to feel self-conscious.

Just as they're leaving, Mrs. Mills tags on, "Remember no sugar or caffeine, darling."

"Of course, Mother."

Emma isn't sure if the, "Well, at least she's a blonde," she hears as the door is closing is real or just her mind playing tricks on her.

*

"I thought no caffeine," Emma mumbles when Regina orders an espresso at the Starbucks in the lobby.

Regina shrugs. "What my mother doesn't know. Do you want anything, Miss Swan?"

Emma frowns and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She actually doesn't like coffee (it tastes like crap) and isn't really sure what half the things on the menu actually mean, so she settles for, "What you're having," and hopes that sounds confident.

They sit hidden away in the corner, hiding behind their two little espresso cups and Regina's extra bottled water, with nothing to say to each other. They have nothing in common except being young girls who want to sing—well, and having caught Mr. Gold's eye.

"Can I ask how you met Mr. Gold, Miss Swan?" Regina asks. Nobody's ever called Emma that except grownups, usually ones that she hated.

"You can call me Emma, you know." Regina looks reluctant, but nods tersely. "And I can call you Regina, right?" Same response. "Okay, cool."

Silence settles again, and Emma fidgets with her cup before taking a sip. Fuck. This tastes even worse than most coffee. Maybe it shows in her face, because when she looks up, there's a hint of a smile in Regina's expression, although it might be more of a smirk.

Emma's always felt like she was born with two wrong feet, but today might be a little worse than usual.

 

 

7.

"Um."

Emma has no idea how to react to the badly photoshopped and badly printed picture that is thrust into her hands. The little dots of ink, distractingly distinct, make her feel like this is some magic eye picture that her brain is interpreting wrong, because wow, that is just—

"Um."

Mulan grabs Emma's arm and tugs, while someone else herds the fan in the opposite direction, but Emma's _still holding it_ and oh god the image might be burned into her brain now.

" _Um_."

"Breathe, Emma," Mulan instructs, then gently pries the sheaf of pages out of Emma's hands before nudging her onto the bus. Emma hiccups.

*

"Hey, what's this?" Ruby asks a couple hours later when she notices the cover picture even though it's half-hidden under the pile of shit they get from fans all the time. She pulls it out and shrieks with laughter as she reads out loud, " _The Erotic Education of Emma Swan?_ "

Mary Margaret's head whips around so fast that if Emma weren't too busy being mortified beyond belief she might be worried about her spraining something. " _What?_ "

"Oh my god, don't—"

"Is that you and Mary Margaret kissing?" Ruby asks loudly, and this time even Regina looks up.

" _What?_ " Mary Margaret asks again.

Regina quirks an eyebrow and smirks when Ruby turns the cover towards the others to let them see. "Please. Like Snow would even be a good teacher when it comes to sex."

Ruby flips through the pages quickly and says, "Actually, I think Emma sleeps with all of us?" Regina laughs at that one, full and throaty, and Emma kind of wants to die.

Mulan pokes her head into the lounge, steadying herself by hanging off one of handle bars along the bus wall. "What are you guys yelling ab—Ruby, that was at the _bottom of the pile_ , for christ's sake."

"'Oh, Gina, you make me feel like a woman.'"

" _Gina?_ " Regina repeats, all traces of humor gone.

Emma is going to kill Mulan for not throwing that thing away in the first place. Then she's going to kill Ruby. Then herself. In that order.

*

"Come on, Em, it was funny."

"Traumatizing _all of us_ is not funny."

"Well, it was a little funny."

Mary Margaret and Regina are holed up in their bunks, presumably to recover from their shock—either from Emma's fictional sexcapades or the realization that their fans think Regina has a cutesy nickname. Emma would be doing the same, if Ruby didn't insist on plying her with snacks and her secret stash of vodka—"insist" in this context meaning "bodily dragging Emma into the kitchen."

"It's also some person's completely made up porn, so what's the big deal, you know?" Ruby shrugs and checks Emma's red plastic cup before adding more vodka. "Also, you are cheating, that smells like straight up coke."

"Whatever, you're the one who mixed it in the first place. And it's... weird, come on. It's totally weird thinking about—" Emma huffs and just finishes with a plaintive, "It _is_."

Kindness isn't Ruby's strong suit, honestly, but she almost manages it with her next smile, leaning against Emma and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You're a good kid, Em. Naïve, but a good kid."

Emma rolls her eyes and takes a sip, consciously schooling her face to keep from grimacing at how much stronger it tastes. "You're barely a year older than me."

Ruby pats Emma's back with an indulgent grin. "You'll learn someday."

What does that even _mean_ , Emma thinks sourly and knocks back the rest of her drink.


End file.
